


Of Hobbits, Dwarves and... Dragons?

by Moosie



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (He doesn't like Thorin in the beginning), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, BAMF Bilbo, Basically, Belladonna is this kick ass woman that's married to a kick ass man, Bilbo Baggins & Smaug Friendship, Bilbo Is Awesome, Bilbo is the rider and Smaug is the Dragon, Bilbo is this really great person, Bilbo-centric, Bungo Baggins is not who he seems, Dragon Rider Bilbo, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, He just gets very protective about Bilbo, I messed up, Jeez I already said way too much, M/M, Please Don't Kill Me, Protective Bilbo, Smaug can be nice when he wants to be, Smaug is raised by Bilbo, The Company have their various roles, This is kind of, Thorin is King-To-Be, Thrain is King, Thror is dead though, so uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moosie/pseuds/Moosie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins was fourteen years of age when he stumbled across an egg, deep red in colour and round in a sort of blocky way, if that made sense. Bungo Baggins, surprising both Bilbo and Belladonna, had known immediately that the egg Bilbo had found was a Dragon’s.</p><p>Bilbo Baggins, on the eve of his sixteenth birthday, hatched the Dragon egg he had found when he was just fourteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where There's A Hobbit, There's A... Dragon Egg?

**Author's Note:**

> So... Dragons! Yay! Okay, so this was entirely inspired by a work here on AO3, and it got my gears rumbling and I just _had_ to write this. Don't give me that look; I've already got the next chapter of Life From A New Perspective in the works. I just have to see Desolation of Smaug again and I'll know where to take it from there, alright? For now, just enjoy!

Bilbo Baggins was fourteen years of age when he stumbled across an egg, deep red in colour and round in a sort of blocky way, if that made sense. Fascinated by it, Bilbo had carried it home, surprisingly light as it was. He had thought it would weigh more than it did, possibly as much as a stack of books. But it wasn’t even that much; it barely weighed anything. Though Bilbo had initially assumed he had to be gentle with it, he soon found out that it didn’t matter. He’d dropped it once and the egg had simply bounced and tried to roll away. Bilbo had been forced to chase after it, not that he minded the extra bit of running

His parents, but really it was his mother, were equally interested in the egg. Bungo, surprising both Bilbo and Belladonna, had known immediately that the egg Bilbo had found was a Dragon’s. Belladonna had given her husband a suspicious look after that, but hadn’t questioned it further because Bungo Baggins was a respectable Hobbit that didn’t _do_ adventure like she did. For now, she wouldn’t ask him how he knew what a Dragon egg looked like when even _she_ wasn’t privy to that knowledge.

(Later, after Bilbo had gone to bed, Belladonna _would_ interrogate him and find out that the Baggins family had a deep, dark, secret; one that was passed down to the head of family’s children. The children, just before they came of age, would be taken out to a distant land far, far away and taught how to ride the great beasts that were Dragons; Bungo had learned from his father and had been told the secret was to be passed to his children and then taken to his grave. Belladonna was suddenly extremely impressed with her husband who had an extreme dislike for adventures.)

“It’s really quite concerning though,” Bungo was saying as he examined the egg, “You’d never find a rarity like this somewhere like the Shire, least of all Hobbiton!”

Bilbo, still quite the easily excited child he was, bounced on his toes as he looked up at his parents. “Can I keep it?” he asked, wanting the egg to be his.

Bungo was completely prepared to tell him no, he could not keep it because respectable Hobbits didn’t own Dragon eggs or keep the Dragons that hatched as pets, when Belladonna had laughed and exclaimed a hearty “Sure!” leaving Bungo to sigh and nod his head in agreement. He knew the glint in Belladonna’s eyes; sometimes he could get rid of it, but other times, times when Bilbo was around to side with her in a matter, he had no such luck. So of _course_ he had said yes afterwards.

Bilbo had practically shouted with glee and picked the egg up, spinning in a circle with it in his arms. Bungo had allowed himself a small smile as he watched his son; Bilbo’s happiness was his happiness, and he supposed that it certainly couldn’t be _that_ bad having a Dragon egg, and then a baby Dragon, in the home. Unbeknownst to his family (until later that night of course) he had raised many baby Dragons into adulthood, and since Bilbo was going to be coming of age in a few short years, he may as well begin teaching the young Hobbit the language of the Scaled Beasts.

Belladonna was simply excited to be able to study a Dragon up close and personal, from hatching all the way into adulthood, since Dragons matured at a much faster rate than Hobbits did. She could consider it an adventure of sorts, albeit one she had to spend at home, but it would be fun nonetheless.

\------

The next day found Bungo scolding Bilbo about how he was keeping the egg. Bilbo had left the egg on his desk, where it could have possibly rolled off onto the floor or something of the like. Bungo had simply shook his head and picked the egg up, heading toward the living room area since Belladonna was making first breakfast. He went toward the fire place and put the egg there, just before lighting a fire in the grate. Bilbo had shouted in protest at that, mainly because he had seen what happened when eggs met fire (and trust him, when the two mixed, it _never_ ended well for the eggs) and he didn’t want the same to happen to his poor Dragon egg.

“Son,” Bungo had sighed when Bilbo had tried for the eighth time to put out the fire and remove the egg, “It’s the egg of a Fire Drake.”

Bilbo stopped trying to casually throw a bucket of cold water onto the fire and simply stared at his father in confusion. “What?”

“It’s the egg of a Fire Drake,” Bungo repeated simply, turning back to the fire and stoking it a bit, “It needs the heat, son, or it won’t survive for very long.”

Bilbo completely missed the pained wince in Bungo’s eye; that had been his very first mistake, and he still regretted it to this very day. The mother of the egg hadn’t been too upset, the egg had been one out of about twenty or thirty, and one that would have been least likely to hatch because of how small it was. Still, Bungo had felt awful, watching as the egg suddenly just _cracked_ open, months before it was time, and inside he’d seen the limp body of a baby Drake that could’ve become large and strong in just a few good years. His father, Mungo Baggins, had tried to console him, explained that it was a simple error on his part. Bungo had never been able to believe that.

Bilbo now was looking at the egg in an odd sort of light. “So it has to stay in the fireplace all the time?” he inquired, his curiosity clear in his voice.

“Not all the time, Bilbo, but most of the hours in the day. It’ll get right hot here in Bag End sometimes, but just bear with the heat for a while, alright?” Bungo had smiled that little smile that made Bilbo feel warm inside and Bilbo had nodded. He could deal with the heat when the hot summers rolled around, he could deal with them now.

Not too much long after, Belladonna called them for breakfast.

“My, it’s getting remarkably hot in here,” she mentioned, and Bungo shot her a sheepish sort of smile.

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s going to be hot for a month or two,” he replied. Belladonna merely smiled at him, shrugging her shoulders a bit.

“I prefer the heat anyway,” she purred, “makes things feel a little more passionate.”

“Belladonna! Not with our son in the room!” Bungo had turned a deep shade of red, and not from the heat. Bilbo was munching on his toast and eggs and giggling away; the grown-up talk had always been humourous to him.

Belladonna merely laughed that hearty and happy laugh, and Bungo made a promise with his eyes to get her back for that later.

\------

In the two years it took for the egg to hatch, Bungo had taught Bilbo as much as he could; seven hundred and thirty days was a lot of time but Bungo had felt like it was too short, and he’d wanted to be sure Bilbo could handle the load he was getting ready to carry. When the egg showed signs of hatching, with cracks in it, Bungo had escorted Belladonna out of Bag End to make sure that the first thing the baby Dragon saw was Bilbo, because it had to imprint on _Bilbo_ and no else. If the Dragon accidentally saw someone, someone that was most certainly _not_ Bilbo, it would become attached to him or her instead, and Bilbo’s Dragon would be lost forever.

Which really would have been such a pity, because he had been working so hard for the egg, keeping up with his chores and finding time to keep the Dragon company while also keeping up with his studies as well. He really did deserve to have his friend after all the effort.

In the meantime, however, Bungo taught Bilbo the language of the Scaled Beasts, the _Angbare_ language. While most Dragons could be taught Westron, they could only be truly spoken to and affected in Angbare. Dragons could be incredibly sarcastic and witty creatures, Bungo knew first hand. In Westron, they snipped and picked at people, and once he had even seen a fellow rider cry because the Dragon she had been attempting to work with had snapped at her and then insulted her. _That_ had been an _extremely_ unpleasant sight.

Bungo had also explained that Bilbo didn’t _get_ to name the Dragon; the Dragon would speak with its soul and tell Bilbo its name when the time was right, which was usually the first night of the Dragon being hatched. Bilbo had looked slightly disappointed by that; the thought of naming the Dragon had been an exciting one, and he’d even gone and picked out several names. Belladonna had chuckled and told him that it was fine and that maybe he could name his children those names when he had them (Bilbo had wrinkled his nose at that because he didn’t _want_ children just yet).

Bilbo wasn’t the only one Bungo taught Angbare. He’d had to teach Belladonna too, because the only way Bilbo would really pick up on it was if both his parents spoke it. (Not that Belladonna wasn’t going to make her husband teach her eventually anyway.) Belladonna had picked up the language fairly easily, just like she did with all the languages she learned. Most didn’t know it, but she spoke fluid Sindarin and, even though it was slightly rougher, fairly good Khuzdul (the language of the Dwarves, something she’d learned on a whim). As a result, Bilbo spoke okay Sindarin and fair Khuzdul. Bilbo loved repeating what his mother said; for Belladonna to know Angbare would be extremely helpful.

When the Baggins family was at home, all they spoke to each other was Angbare, unless Bungo was teaching Bilbo new words, and even then, he only spoke the words he needed to translate to Bilbo. When they left their respectable home, many whispered and talked about the Bagginses that were hiding something in their mansion of a Hobbit-hole; the chimney was always puffing and (when Bilbo slipped up in public) they spoke a weird language the Hobbits had never heard before.

The day the egg finally hatched was huge. Bilbo had been the one to notice the huge lines of cracks in the shell.

“Dad! Dad! It’s beginning to hatch!” he had shouted in Angbare. His father had rushed over to see for himself, and then he had given Bilbo precise instructions as to what he was to do. Bilbo had to take the egg from the fire with his bare hands (“Control it; don’t give me that face, I taught you how, it won’t hurt you if you just _control it!_ ”) and place it on a blanket on the floor. Then he had to wait for it to finish hatching, for the Dragon to emerge and set its eyes on him before he came and get them.

Then, Bungo and Belladonna had left him be and Bilbo Baggins, on the eve of his sixteenth birthday, hatched the Dragon egg he had found when he was just fourteen.

That night, with the Dragon safely tucked away in the hot fireplace (“It’s to mimic the mother’s furnace-like belly. That’s where the babes sleep; inside her stomach until they’re a few days old.”) the baby Dragon’s very soul came to Bilbo in his sleep, nestling in the back of his mind and waiting for him to notice it before the Dragon warmed up to him affectionately.

 _Smaug,_ the Dragon spirit had said with a bit of a rumble to its, to his (because Bilbo knew it was a boy, he didn’t know how, he just _knew_ ), words.

_My name is Smaug._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little background on my so-called made up language:
> 
> Angbare
> 
> The root, _Ang-_ from the Latin word _Anguis_ which means dragon or serpent and the suffix _–bare_ from the word _barbare_ which means language. This is the language of the Dragons, and it is comprised entirely of Romanian (sue me) with French and Italian words thrown in occasionally, so watch out for that.
> 
> If I made a mistake there, feel free to correct me. And so as not to confuse people, I plan to use brackets to represent the different languages. But I'll only be using two (technically three, but English doesn't count). ["Khuzdul"] {"Angbare"}


	2. Where There's A Dragon There's A Hobbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the type of person whose gears are always turning when it comes to a new topic, so expect chapter updates to be spanned 24 hours to a few days apart.

Smaug, the Baggins family found out, absolutely _loved_ hiding and hoarding things. Bungo had explained that it was normal to some extent for certain types of Dragons, mainly Dragons that had lived for hundreds of years and could follow the pull of gold and the like. Smaug, however, didn’t attempt to hide things of value, no. He liked hiding trivial things, things you didn’t think about needing until it disappeared from sight. Bilbo had been searching for his quill when he had stumbled upon Smaug’s little collection of trinkets beneath his bed. There was where he found his quill, along with his father’s handkerchief and his mother’s cooking spoon.

Belladonna thought it was cute more than anything else, especially since Smaug tried to play it off like he hadn’t intended on continuing to build his hoard beneath Bilbo’s bed. He had picked up Westron fairly well, quite easier than even some of the Hobbit babes. But there were times when he attempted to curse in Angbare and Bungo rounded on him, scolding him just like he did Bilbo whenever Bilbo made an attempt to say those same curses.

“Neither of you will speak that type of language in this house!” Bungo had declared, and Belladonna, who was standing right behind him, was smiling with a twinkle in her eye, mouthing at Smaug to teach her all the curses he knew.

And Smaug loved Belladonna, he really did. She was like a mother to him; the mother that had been there to take care of him. When Smaug was feeling down, Belladonna knew just what to say to cheer him up, and she made some of the best scones this side of Hobbiton, though it was Bungo’s tea that made them taste the best. Bungo was like a stern father, but a bit of a pushover, especially when the three of them, Belladonna, Bilbo, and Smaug, ganged up on him a bit to get something they all wanted.

As for Bilbo, they were more siblings than anything else. They bickered about small matters, such as whose turn it was to clean out the fireplace (“ _You_ slept in it last night!” “Well I also cleaned it before I slept in it, making it _your_ turn!”) and whether or not they were lost when they wandered too far into the woods (“Are you _sure_ you know where we’re going?” “I’m a _Dragon_ , Bilbo, I have a keen sense of direction!”). They shared many secrets with each other, from Bilbo’s crushes to Smaug’s wonderings about his real parents. Smaug also knew that there was a bond between him and Bilbo, something they found out more and more about each day.

“Boys!” Belladonna called, for dinner would be ready soon.

There was a brief crash and then Smaug came scurrying in; he wasn’t allowed to fly in the house. Bilbo came running after, yelling something about Dragons that needed to be thrown into streams. There wasn’t any real threat behind those words; Bilbo knew how much Smaug hated water. Smaug curled himself around Belladonna’s legs, still small enough to do so as he was. His eyes shined with mischief, and something of a grin pulled at his muzzle.

“Mum! He knocked ink all over my desk _again_!” Bilbo was saying now, watching Smaug and waiting for an opportunity to snag him.

“It was an accident, Mum, I swear!” Smaug looked up at Belladonna, managing to give her the look of a Dragon that had been dunked in water and needed a fluffy towel and a few kisses. Belladonna received that look quite often, and knew her way around it.

“Did you apologize for spilling his ink, Smaug?” she placed her hands on her hips, an eyebrow raised. Smaug looked down, his grin having disappeared.

“…No,” he said after a moment of quiet.

“Well, I suppose that’s something you need to do, hmm?” Belladonna’s smile returned and she reached down to lift Smaug into her arms. Bilbo crossed his arms, waiting patiently for the apology he thought he deserved.

“I’m sorry for knocking your ink all over the desk,” Smaug murmured, not looking at Bilbo.

“Liar!” Bilbo called out immediately, and Smaug looked up at him again, grinning that odd grin again. Completely disobeying Bungo’s rule of not flying in the house, he spread his little wings and jumped, landing smoothly on Bilbo’s shoulders and curling around his neck.

“You’re right; I’m not actually sorry!” he declared and licked Bilbo’s cheek. Bilbo’s nose wrinkled at that and he tried to wipe the slimy saliva away.

“Disgusting- where are your manners?!”

Belladonna merely shook her head, the smile from before still on her face. “Bilbo, help me set the table. Smaug, go get your father.”

“Yes, Mum,” the two lads replied in unison, stopping their bickering and separating to do as they were told. Belladonna watched her boys, admiring the way that they moved about each other. Bungo had explained the bond between a Dragon and its Rider before; he had told her that no matter how much they fought each other it would only serve to bring them closer in the end. The most effective way for a pair to be able to watch out for one another was to always have a certain level of doubt in place along with trust. It wasn’t that Smaug bickered with Bilbo just to be difficult; in the future his constant questioning could save Bilbo’s life.

When they were all gathered for Supper, they heartily dug in, and Bungo went into his usual questioning about Smaug and Bilbo’s bond and their training.

“You’ve been meditating together?” Bungo was asking now.

“Yes, Dad,” they answered at the same time.

“You’ve been monitoring each other?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“You’ve been spending at least six hours outside together?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“You’ve been listening to a fussy gentlehobbit question you for too long?” Belladonna cut in, and the boys broke into fits of giggles. Bungo gave Belladonna a look clearly stating that that wasn’t funny. Belladonna merely grinned at him.

\------

Bilbo sat in a meadow with Smaug only a few short years into the future, trying to concentrate on his companion’s current location. Bungo had told them that they needed to practice feeling each other out more. Bilbo had to reach out with his entire mind and soul just to feel Smaug a few feet away, but Bungo had explained that it would become easier with a bit of time. Where Smaug could pinpoint Bilbo immediately, Bilbo took a little longer to learn how to do so.

One morning a few weeks later, just a few days after Bilbo’s thirty-first birthday, Bungo had declared that they needed to leave Bag End for a bit. This, of course, shocked Bilbo, Smaug, _and_ Belladonna. Bungo Baggins? Suggest they leave their Hobbit-Hole? Belladonna had hurried over to him and felt his forehead, wondering if he had a fever and needed to lie down. Bungo had batted her hands away with a bit of an eye roll and then explained that they needed to leave because Smaug was becoming larger and it was time Bilbo learned how to ride.

Bilbo understood what Bungo meant; Smaug didn’t fit into the house too well anymore. He took up the entirety of the front hall now and stretched almost the entire length of the hill Bag End was built under. But what he didn’t know was if he could actually _ride_ Smaug, his brother. Smaug seemed eager about the idea; often days he flew over Hobbiton and occasionally all the way around the Shire. He had invited Bilbo to come with him multiple times, but Bilbo had simply declined.

“Smaug, you understand,” Bungo turned to his youngest son, patting Smaug’s head a bit. Smaug pushed into the touch, nodding.

“Yes, father, I know what you mean. I’ve been able to feel it for a while now,” Smaug looked at Bilbo, who was looking more than a bit nervous about the entire ordeal. “I’ve taken to the skies more recently and I feel Bilbo should come with me whenever I go.”

“It’s a natural instinct to feel, when the Dragon has bonded with the Rider in the way the two of you have,” Bungo stated. He clapped his hands together.

“Pack up, family, we’re leaving Bag End for a bit,” he turned on his heel and went about grabbing things to pack.

“Sweet heart, I don’t _doubt_ what you’re doing, but _where_ are we going?” Belladonna asked, but she was already getting her things together as well.

“As much as I hate to say the word, dear, we’re going on an adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter than the last one, though, so sorry about that. I feel like I should mention that when I say "Everyone lives and no one dies" I mean just about everyone. Screw character deaths to move the plot along. There are many other things besides character death that can progress the plot; killing shalt not be one of them in this story!


	3. Where There Are Dwarves...

“It’s rather odd.”

The sound of his sister coming up behind him had Thorin turning around and staring. Dís looked a little concerned as she walked over to the balcony Thorin was looking down over. They could see almost the entire kingdom, save what was directly beneath the balcony. Thorin had gotten a rather odd feeling earlier in the day and he had been standing, overlooking the kingdom, for more than a few hours. What he was concerned about most couldn’t say. _He_ couldn’t tell them even if he tried. Thorin had not a single clue what had drawn him to the balcony.

“What’s rather odd?” he asked once Dís had joined him.

“I have this nagging feeling,” Dís started. She paused, scrutinizing the railing a bit, and then continued, “this nagging feeling. Like something huge was supposed to happen today but it… didn’t.”

Thorin blinked in shock at her word usage, because that was exactly what he had been thinking as well. He felt as though something bad, something extremely terrible, was supposed to occur. Like there was supposed to be horrible bloodshed and death on that day, but for some inconceivably wonderful reason it just didn’t. Thorin had come to look out over the people and thank Mahal for sparing them of whatever it was that would have destroyed years upon years of work and progress.

(What they failed to realize was that Thorin got that feeling on that very same day every year. He never really took notice of it, but if he had, he would have talked to someone about it, possibly even questioned the Grey Wizard that occasionally stopped through Erebor. The Grey Wizard would have suggested that something ridiculous could have happened, like a Dragon attacking and taking over. Thorin would have scoffed at the idea. That is, _if_ he had dared to ask.)

Unfortunately, something else entirely happened on that day, Dís and Thorin would soon find out. Their grandfather, King Under the Mountain Thrór, died that night. Thráin found him with the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain, inside of the treasury, seemingly where he fell to his death atop the huge mounds of gold. Thorin didn’t know if he felt angry for his grandfather’s death, which left Thráin king and him closer to becoming king himself, or if he felt relief that his father was finally king, because now it meant they could put the Heart of the Mountain back where they had found it.

Only two days after finding Thrór, he was buried in the tomb of his ancestors and the Arkenstone was returned to the Mountain. Thráin, seeing the improvement coming the Kingdom just days after its return, called Thorin and his siblings to a familial meeting of sorts.

“It is time we expanded the trade routes. We need to make amends with the Elves—” the three heirs groaned at the thought.

“Father, we can do without the help of Elves,” Thorin protested.

“The fastest route for any goods to come in and out of Erebor is through the Greenwood. If we rebuild our relationship with the Elves, they may be willing to set up an agreement,” Thráin explained further.

“Father has a point, even if the thought of working with Elves is repulsive,” Dís sighed, sounding the most logical of the three.

“There is someone else we could speak with to help in these matters. An old friend of mine; I’ve already sent her a letter,” Thráin said now, looking between his children.

“The Hobbit? Are we going to see her again?” Frerin bounced on his toes, excited about getting to see the Hobbit woman from the Shire again. She had been extremely entertaining, telling them stories of her husband and sons. She had visited only once in the last few years, and it had been such a shame. The last time she had visited she had explained that she couldn’t be away from home for too long or else her boys would manage to burn their Hobbit-Hole down somehow. (The Dwarves never knew how literal that could be—or how close it had been to happening.)

Thráin nodded, a smile gracing his features when he saw his children relax and smile a bit amongst themselves. Well, Thorin didn’t often smile, but it was in his eyes, the calm and somewhat happy look. Frerin looked ready to run off to tell his nephews that they would be having a guest soon, even though Thráin hadn’t exactly told his youngest son when his friend would be arriving in Erebor. Dís looked rather pleased herself; she had lost her last match with the Hobbit woman, but she planned to challenge her to a rematch.

“I received a letter this morning saying that she and her family are coming,” Thráin continued, “Her two sons and her husband.”

“When will they be arriving?” Thorin asked, for now he couldn’t contain his excitement either.

“We’re planning to meet in the Greenwood before coming back here. Thorin, you and Dís will meet them, as I must stay to deal with matters of the kingdom.” Thráin smiled, placing his hands on Thorin’s shoulders. “You will do wonderfully in the negotiations, I’m sure.”

Thorin nodded solemnly. He wasn’t the fondest of Elves, but Dís would be able to help him make sure he didn’t accidentally start a war instead of settling trade routes. Maybe he should leave all of the talking while they were there to Dís and the Hobbit woman. The females seemed to know a bit more about hiding their anger than the males did, as Thorin was sure to make an ass of himself the moment he thought an Elf was insulting them.

“Can I go with the two of them?” Frerin asked eagerly. Thráin, though reluctantly, shook his head.

“Dís will need someone to look after Fíli and Kíli as Dwalin will be going with them.” He watched Frerin deflate a bit.

“Oh… Alright. I suppose the boys would get bored without me here with them.” He tried to seem more excited than he admittedly felt, but it was obvious he wasn’t. Dís glanced at her father, and then sighed.

“Perhaps I will simply stay to keep an eye on the boys. Frerin could use the diplomatic experience anyway,” she suggested. Frerin perked up almost immediately at the insinuation. He looked to his father.

Now, Thráin always prided himself on being able to discipline his children extremely well. He knew when to tell them no, and he knew when to assert that his word was final and that there would be no bickering on the matter. He had been the disciplinary parent while his wife, Eira, had been the softer parent that had spoiled their children. He could imagine her looking down at him now, giving him that scolding look that told him he should stop working his children so hard. Since her death, he had become much more lenient in matters concerning them.

“…So long as the process doesn’t end in a feud between our lands,” he conceded. Frerin looked as though Thráin had just told him he could skip sparring practice until his next birthday. It was amazing how excited Frerin could get, and so fast as well.

“Thank you, father!” Before he could run from the room he pulled Dís into a tight hug. “You are absolutely wonderful, sister, thank you!” And then he was off.

Thorin looked to Dís and Thráin, an eyebrow raised, but a small smile graced his features as well. Dís shrugged a bit, watching Frerin’s retreating form. They had never been able to take seeing Frerin upset; he had known their mother the shortest amount of time. He had been only seven years of age, just a babe, when she had been killed on the battlefield. Eira had been a healer, and even as Queen, she had preferred to be out helping her people than in the castle. Not too much longer after she had weaned Frerin a war had been started by the Orcs. She had been one of the unlucky ones that had been killed in an attack on one of the encampments. Thráin had never had the heart to explain to Frerin why his mother never came home with the troops.

Thorin patted his father’s shoulder and went to prepare for the trip into the Greenwood. He needed to alert Dwalin of the fact that he would be accompanying them as well as get a few supplies together, as the trip would take about a day or so. Dís went off to find Fíli and Kíli and make sure they weren’t getting into any trouble. The last thing they needed was another torn tapestry. Thráin simply went off to find Balin. Preparations for their guests needed to be made. He would have to make sure someone dusted the Hobbit’s old room. Belladonna had said that her husband had a severe dust allergy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mapped out the entire story so that I have no excuse for why chapters can't get done. It makes me glad that I know what I'm doing this time. ^_^


	4. Where Riding Is Concerned, Patience Is Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was falling asleep when I wrote this, so...

Belladonna received a raven confirming that preparations by the Dwarves would be made a few hours after sunrise. She had made a fire and was preparing breakfast for her three boys when she heard the sounds of Bungo shouting at Smaug. Having gotten used to the noise by now, only in the second week of their journey as Bungo had insisted they take their time, Belladonna continued about her business. She managed to find both a forsythia flower and a gorse flower along the line somewhere and sent them both back via the raven, letting her old friend know that she anticipated their reunion with affection.

The raven had only just flown out of range when Belladonna saw a burst of fire fly up over head. She thought the raven extremely lucky it didn’t end up killed by the flames, and she quickly went to see what it was that had caused Smaug to send out a burst that high. He typically only breathed fire when playing or trying to get someone’s attention. This time, however, Smaug had blown out a breath of fire in anger, and there was the steady rumble of a growl in his chest as he glared at Bilbo’s back.

“Bilbo, you have to get back into the saddle!” Bungo was saying once it caught up to Belladonna that he was speaking.

“Not after _he_ almost _dropped_ me!” Bilbo snapped. Bungo looked to Smaug, who had turned away and curled in on himself a bit.

“Smaug, you should apologize!” Bungo tried now.

“I wouldn’t have almost _dropped_ him if he hadn’t been _pulling_ so hard on the reins!” Smaug argued, not bothering to even _look_ at Bungo.

“Belladonna!” Bungo turned to his wife, gesturing between his boys, a sigh on his lips. Belladonna smiled apologetically for not coming to his aid sooner. She walked over, kissing her husband briefly and then looking between her two sons.

“I’m going to count down from ten. If Bilbo isn’t in that saddle by the time I get to one, I’m going to have a few _serious_ words with the two of you,” Belladonna barked, putting emphasis on the word serious. The boys didn’t move when she started at ten, nor did they move at nine or eight, and not even at seven. Six, however, was a different matter altogether.

“Six.”

Bilbo glanced back at her, only to catch sight of the fervent look on her face, the one that said if he didn’t do what he’d been told to and immediately he would regret it.

“Five.”

At the same time, Smaug did exactly what Bilbo had, lifting his head up to see if Belladonna really was planning on punishing them this time if they didn’t do as she said.

“Four.”

It took a split second before Bilbo was scrambling over to Smaug, trying to get back into the saddle on Smaug’s back. At three Smaug was helping him, pushing Bilbo up onto his back with his tail and then grabbing the harness and helping Bilbo strap himself in. Bilbo winced when he pulled the belt a little too tight and it pinched him a bit, but when he heard his mother say “two” he his pain was quickly forgotten. He remembered the last time he hadn’t listened when his mother had counted down. His palms still stung with reminder whenever he thought about it.

“One.” Belladonna looked at her two children and smiled when she saw Bilbo strapped down and ready to ride, as well as Smaug ready to fly. She looked at Bungo, who seemed relieved that his sons had finally stopped acting like children and started acting more their age.

“I still have no idea how you do it,” he leaned over and planted a chaste kiss on Belladonna’s cheek. Belladonna positively beamed at him.

“It comes with being a mother.”

\------

They were flying way up in the clouds, scouting ahead for their parents as per request and as part of their training. Bilbo was finally beginning to get the hang of the entire riding thing; Smaug could be difficult at times but Bilbo had figured out how maneuver the Dragon whenever Smaug allowed it, which was more often than Bilbo initially thought. Bungo had explained why to him Bilbo didn’t know how many times, and he replayed the explanation over in his head whenever Smaug was being particularly difficult.

_“Dragons,” Bungo had started off saying, going over to Smaug and running a hand over his jaw, “are naturally submissive creatures. A Rider is like a guide, almost. He helps his Dragon get to where they need to go. The Dragon keeps the Rider airborne while the Rider controls the direction and speed.”_

_Bilbo had nodded along with the explanation, understanding what his father was saying for the most part._

_“But you’ll do well to remember that a Dragon doesn’t have to let you ride him. You have to show him that he can trust you to guide you the right way. You have to show him that you’ll be his second pair of eyes and ears, and you have to show him that you’ll never harm him. In turn, a Dragon’s loyalty is second to none. People can change and betray you. Dragons? Once you’ve got their faith, they’ll follow you through everything.” Bungo’s smile had turned sad around this time, and he walked over to sit next to Bilbo. “You can gain the trust of many Dragons, son, but you’ll only ever bond with one. And once you lose that one, riding another Dragon will never be the same.”_

_Bilbo could see it in Bungo’s eyes, and he communicated the emotion to Smaug via their bond. Smaug couldn’t see the amount of sadness and anguish that Bungo tried not to show in his eyes, but he could sure as Hell feel it. He came over and nudged Bungo gently with his snout, trying to comfort his father just like his brother was trying. Belladonna found them with Smaug wrapped tightly around Bungo and Bilbo, and she smiled before she managed to squeeze in with her little family. If there was one thing she most certainly could do, it was be there for them._

The sun was high in the sky and Smaug and Bilbo were preparing to return to their parents when Bilbo caught sight of something not too far in the distance. He squinted his eyes and then grinned, looking down at Smaug. Smaug watched him out of the corner of his eye, wondering what it was Bilbo could have seen.

“We’ve got to get back to mum and dad! Rivendell is just there! Merely a few hours more and we’ll be in the House of the Elves!” Bilbo called to Smaug to appease him when Smaug began to get impatient.

“Really? We must head back now then!” Smaug angled his body for them to turn around, and off they went back Bungo and Belladonna.

\------

Lord Elrond certainly was surprised when the Baggins family showed up with a _Dragon_ of all creatures. He greeted Belladonna with hugs and smiles, and he made it a point of mentioning how big Bilbo had gotten since she had last seen him. Bilbo smiled shyly at the compliments on how well he was progressing in age, and then pulled Smaug forth by the reins. Smaug had been trying to hide behind him, being unused to seeing beings such as the Elves of Rivendell. While Bilbo tried to placate Smaug, Lord Elrond had done Bungo a favor and had an elf escort him to the rooms they would be staying in while there for a much needed bath.

“Don’t worry. Think of Lord Elrond like an uncle. He’s really quite nice,” Bilbo tried to reassure.

“Indeed I am,” Elrond smiled as he examined Smaug. Unexpectedly, Smaug wrapped a protective wing over Bilbo, thinking that Lord Elrond was smiling that odd smile at _Bilbo,_ not himself, effectively blocking the Elf Lord from Bilbo’s view. Bilbo, surprised by this sudden shift in attitude, blinked in shock and tried to get back into the open air.

“State your intentions,” Smaug growled, and Belladonna placed her hands on her hips.

“Smaug Baggins you let your brother out this instant! He is not to be kept hostage while we are in the company of friends,” Belladonna ordered. When Smaug didn’t relent she took a step closer. “Lord Elrond is a _friend_ , young Dragon.”

Reluctantly, Smaug uncovered Bilbo, who glared up at him and then stalked back over to Lord Elrond. He smiled sweetly.

“Sorry, my brother can be a bit… Rude,” he apologized.

“Rude-?!” Smaug spluttered, “I was protecting you!”

“From _nothing_ , you worry wart, there are no dangers here!” Bilbo hissed.

“ _He_ seems rather dangerous to me.” Smaug would vehemently deny that he was pouting, even if that was what he was doing.

Lord Elrond found all of this funny, and he looked to Belladonna who could only shrug. Her boys bickered like this all the time; she couldn’t really stop it when it was as natural to them as breathing.

“On the contrary, Bilbo, it seems like you’ll have many young Elves falling for you,” Elrond grinned. Bilbo turned pink and Smaug growled at any Elf that came near for the rest of the night.

\------

The family stayed at the Last Homely House for only three days before they left. They had an Elven escort that followed them all the way to the Greenwood. Lord Elrond along with his two sons accompanied them as well, and many Elves got to see what Dragon riding really was. Bilbo and Smaug were given the opportunity to perfect aerial tricks in the time that they had been on the road. Pretty soon Smaug was doing backflips and spirals in the air, Bilbo hanging on by the harness and controlling which way Smaug went. The Elves with them were fascinated by the displays.

It took only two or so weeks to get to the Greenwood. There the Baggins family was met by a convoy of Elven guards. While they had no problem with the Elves of Rivendell, they strongly insisted that Lord Elrond and his Elves had back on King Thranduil’s order. Lord Elrond would have requested they stay if Belladonna hadn’t requested that they head back, saying it was for the best. Elrond knew the real reason why she had requested him to go back, however, and shook his head. Belladonna simply wanted to keep the peace, and they couldn’t very well do that with the two Elf Lords fighting.

When the Bagginses arrived at the Elf Kingdom in the Greenwood, it was without the Elves of Rivendell. Belladonna, the only one familiar with King Thranduil and his ways, left her family in the rather large chambers they had been given to speak with him.

Bilbo and Smaug could stay put for only so long before they slipped out of the rooms, Bungo fast asleep after the long day and all the training. They wandered the halls for a long time before they came across a young Elf overlooking many of the others. He was tall, as to be expected from Elves, with golden hair. Bilbo thought it looked much like silk; Smaug thought it looked like thread. They came to know this Elf as Legolas, King Thranduil’s son.

“You are a Hobbit, and you… a Dragon?” Legolas looked intrigued upon laying his eyes on Smaug. Smaug puffed up with pride.

“Indeed I am,” he replied.

“I thought the Dragons were gone,” he continued.

“Gone?” Bilbo frowned, “Why would they be gone?”

“You’ve not heard the stories? Of a Man that had attempted to rid the world of all Dragons?”

At Bilbo’s headshake Legolas frowned, worrying at his bottom lip for only a moment before he grabbed Bilbo’s arm and pulled him along.

“Come. I must show you the library.”

\------

“I hear you’re representing the Dwarves for the trade negotiations,” Thranduil remarked from his throne. Belladonna nodded, a smile playing on her lips as she stood before Thranduil.

“They’ve chosen well. I’d much rather negotiate with a reasonable Hobbit than a stubborn Dwarf.” Thranduil smiled slowly.

“Yes, I would agree. Dwarves can be a bit thick headed, can’t they?” Belladonna chose her words carefully. Thranduil’s mood could change at any second.

“Mm. I have a question, however.” Belladonna nodded her head, giving him permission to ask it.

“How have you managed to get your hands on one of the last Dragons in all of Middle Earth?”


	5. Where Dragons Aren't So Fond of Dwarves

Bilbo flipped through the literature of the Elven library with Smaug, reading through the story of the Man, Illern, who had seen the way Dragons could destroy and sought to get rid of the winged creatures. Hatchlings, tweens, and full grown Drakes alike were no match for the black bow and arrows gifted to him by the Elves, who had not known of the Man’s intentions. The Elves were the only other race familiar with the ways of Dragons, but they had not mastered riding as Hobbits had.

Illern had taken the bow and slaughtered all but a few of the oldest Drakes. When Illern had finally been captured and sentenced to death, only three of the Drakes remained. Smaug deduced that his birth parents were among those three that had survived. The lore also stated that Dragons could always feel the pull of other Dragons, but Smaug felt no such pull, and so figured that his birth parents were gone. He truly was the last of the Dragons.

Bilbo comforted him when Smaug curled in on himself a bit, feeling rather alone for the first time since he’d hatched. To know that he was the last of an ancient race, it made him terribly aware that, even though he had a family that loved him and would always be there for him, the only person he could truly sympathize with was Bilbo, and that was because of their Bond. Without it, their relationship wouldn’t have been able to stop the loneliness from creeping into his soul.

Legolas had left them a long while before, when Bilbo had first begun to read the tale aloud for Smaug to hear. He returned a while later, planning to take them back to their rooms, when a messenger approached them, saying something about a feast being held in Belladonna Baggins’s honour, as well as the arrival of the Dwarves. The news managed to make Smaug and Bilbo forget about the tragic truth for now, and they followed behind the Elf Prince toward a place where they could watch the Dwarves enter.

The entrance of the Dwarves was grand, with their guard all around them, and Belladonna grinned from where she was watching, spotting her old friends with ease. She nudged Bungo into moving with her, though she had no idea where her boys were. They had disappeared earlier on and Bungo had come searching for them when he’d found them missing from their rooms. That was when Belladonna caught up to them and explained that they would be having a feast of sorts. Bungo had groaned but agreed to attend, if only for his wife.

\------

Upon arrival in the Greenwood Thorin took stock of what sounded like a celebration of sorts. The Elves were having a feast in the honour of the Hobbit woman and her family. Frerin was eager to join the Elves, who, though possibly a bit hostile at first, welcomed the Dwarves of the House of Durin with open arms. Dwalin remained cautious around these Elves, mainly because he most certainly did not trust them. Though his contempt for the race was momentarily forgotten when he spotted Belladonna coming toward them.

“Dwalin! Years it’s been, my friend. Stop scowling, it’s unbecoming of you!” Belladonna was shorter than he, which was to be expected since she was a Hobbit, but closer to Frerin in height. She looked around Dwalin and spotted Frerin and Thorin as well, though the younger prince had wandered slightly further away from Thorin to eat and be merry, which Thorin most certainly was not doing.

“Thorin!” Belladonna called. Thorin snapped to attention and then relaxed, walking closer to greet his father’s old friend.

“Mrs. Baggins,” he inclined his head and Belladonna bowed her own. She then pulled Thorin into a tight hug.

“Oh come now, Prince Under the Mountain! No need for formalities; it’s just Belladonna!” She smiled and then glanced around. “My husband is around here somewhere…”

As if on cue Bungo appeared, heading toward them to possibly talk to his wife on one matter or another. Bungo had somehow managed to slip away from Belladonna at some point, but now he approached her. Bungo Baggins was shorter than his wife by only two or so inches. He smiled politely at Thorin, inclining his head in greeting.

“Hello there,” he smiled warmly, “Bungo Baggins, at your service.”

“Hello,” Thorin replied. “I am Thorin, son of Thráin.”

“One of the princes my wife has told me so much about?” Bungo looked to Belladonna whose on smile had not dimmed in the slightest.

“The same. I would hope that she has spoken only well of me.” Thorin glanced over to Belladonna as well, who had vanished, leaving Bungo standing awkwardly next to Thorin. They were in silence for a while before Frerin rematerialized from somewhere in the crowd.

“Why, hello there!” he greeted. He had brought over a plate of food that was mainly vegetables.

“Hello,” Bungo nodded. “You must be the other prince.”

“And you, Belladonna’s husband, correct?” Frerin looked around for the woman. “Where is she, by the way?”

Bungo was about to reply when he heard the sound of commotion and then recognized the voices of his sons trying to wiggle their way out of something. When the Elves parted and he could see his boys, he smiled fondly. Belladonna had each of them by the ear and was dragging them toward the small group. Dwalin’s hand immediately went to his weapon when he spotted the Dragon Belladonna was bringing over. Frerin stared in awe at the great beast, placing his plate down and trying to run over to touch it. Before he got far, however, Dwalin grabbed his shirt.

“Frerin, hello dear. Thorin, Dwalin, these are my children,” Belladonna stopped walking and pushed the other Hobbit closer. The Dragon stepped forward as well, curious about these beings.

Waiting for his brother to introduce himself, the Dragon pushed the Hobbit lad forward first. The Hobbit seemed stuck for a moment, watching the Dwarves in fascination before the Dragon appeared to roll his eyes.

“Smaug Baggins. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the Dragon bowed his head briefly, and then used his tail to push the other Hobbit closer. The Hobbit glared at Smaug before looking back at the Dwarves.

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service,” he nodded. He had watched when the Dwarves had entered, and his eyes had been fixed on the one with the longer, dark hair. He was absolutely stunning in Bilbo’s books, if a bit stiff, but Bilbo attributed that to the Dwarf’s obvious distrust of Elves.

“Thorin, son of Thráin,” Thorin eyed Bilbo a bit, head tilted in slight curiosity.

“Frerin, son of Thráin,” Frerin smiled, catching Bilbo’s attention. Bilbo smiled and nodded at him. This was the younger sibling, clearly, and Bilbo was struck with the idea of a child almost. Frerin seemed very excited about everything, much more at ease than his elder brother was.

“This is Dwalin, son of Fundin.” Frerin looked back at Dwalin who grunted to show he was listening. Bilbo shot him a smile as well and then turned back to Frerin.

“Dwarves are rather odd looking creatures,” Smaug observed, walking circles around the Dwarves before settling at Bilbo’s side again.

“Are we?” Frerin looked at his brother now, the smile on his face turning into a playful grin. But Thorin was still watching Bilbo. Smaug took notice of this as well and narrowed his eyes at the Dwarf, sniffing the air and smelling a change in Thorin’s scent.

Bilbo, whose cheeks had gone scarlet under Thorin’s piercing gaze, was prepared to speak, ask if he had something or other on his face, when Smaug wrapped him up in one of his wings—just like he had in Rivendell. Bilbo spluttered as he looked up at Smaug, the only person he could see, who was letting out a steady growling noise.

“Did your mother not tell you how impolite it is to stare?” the Dragon snapped.

“My apologies. I had not realized I was staring,” Thorin replied, blinking in astonishment. He had merely been admiring Bilbo, his golden hair of perfect curls and his autumn blue eyes. Hobbits were small creatures, as Thorin had expected (never mind Belladonna; he had been told that she was unusually tall compared to most Hobbits, but still shorter than he or Dwalin) but Bilbo was small and rather… cute, if he had to apply a word to him.

Smaug snorted and wrapped his wing tighter around Bilbo. It took a moment, but eventually the Dwarves noticed the sound of shouting coming from behind Smaug’s wing. Smaug ignored his older brother’s shouting, choosing instead to keep up his glare at Thorin. This seemed to go on for a few moments, before one of the Hobbit’s parents spotted them.

{“Smaug! Let your brother out this instant!”} Bungo hurried over when he spotted the familiar stance Smaug was in, and Frerin did a bit of a double take at the sound of the strange language. He looked around and saw that he wasn’t the only one that was curious about the words they had suddenly heard. He looked back at Smaug and saw that the Dragon had removed his wing, albeit with a slight hesitation.

Bilbo threw Smaug a bit of a dirty look before stepping away from him.

{“Overprotective lizard…”} he mumbled in that language again, turning his back on Smaug. Smaug sputtered at the insult. He then used his tail to knock Bilbo over. Though, in doing so, he actually knocked Bilbo into the eldest Dwarf Prince, who caught him before he could hit the ground and possibly hurt himself.

“Are you alright?” Thorin asked, though he hadn’t put Bilbo back on his feet just yet.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Bilbo smiled, but he looked back at Smaug who was glaring vehemently now.

Thorin helped Bilbo stand once more and nodded his head. “You should be more careful.”

Bilbo rose an eyebrow at that, positive Thorin had seen Smaug trip him up. But instead of calling the Dwarf out on this, he allowed a small smile to play on his lips.

“I will certainly try,” he said, just before he looked back at Smaug, and if looks could kill Smaug would have been six feet under.

“Thorin!”

Thorin looked up to see Belladonna waving him over to where Thranduil stood. Apparently they would be starting negotiations then. He gave one last lingering look back at Bilbo before starting the walk over to the Hobbit woman and King. Bilbo watched him go, staring at Thorin’s firm backside. Smaug noticed just where his older brother was staring, and snorted. Incidentally, a small shot of fire flew out and hit Thorin’s pants. Bilbo shouted in shock and then grabbed what water he could to put out the fire.

Smaug was too busy laughing at the Prince to actually help Bilbo (although after he was finished he was promptly sent to their rooms, officially in trouble with his mother and father for setting someone’s pants on fire when, Bungo had been extremely displeased when he said this, “he knew better”). Frerin fell over in a fit of giggles as well, the only person that was actually able to stop him, Dwalin, trying his extremely hard not to laugh as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _promise_ you I will elaborate on the thing with the Dragons later. Also, I may or may not be toying with ages a bit, I'll be able to figure out if I actually am a little later on in the story. Not right now, but I get the feeling I am. I'll post a timeline at the beginning of the next chapter for sure.
> 
> I have a few surprises in store for you all in the future actually. I also feel the need to in that Fire Drakes are not the only types of Dragons I'm working with (Bungo will explain to an excited group of Dwarves the different types later on). There are still nine more chapters in the works, okay?
> 
> Lastly, these are just _initial_ meetings. They'll become more familiar a little later on in the story (and by that I clearly mean next chapter).


End file.
